


Mists Descend

by Lilyhemlock



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, OC, Timeline vague but around 100 years before the main Witcher series, Witcher setting but not characters, more a series of one-shots than a full story, myths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyhemlock/pseuds/Lilyhemlock
Summary: Being a Witcher is not exactly a lifestyle anyone would choose. Perpetually poor, wandering the countryside hunting for monsters until the day one of them will kill you. But it was the lifestyle Aze had. So she lived with it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Mists Descend

Duza was unsure this was a good idea. Actually no, he was very sure this was a bad idea, trudging through the swamp late at night, torch held high. Ma had said to never go here after dusk, and dammit she was right. The mud was seeping into his boots, his breathe was curling before him before vanishing into the dense fog around. But Staral had insisted on looking for the killer, so Duza had followed his younger brother. Someone had to look after him since Ma had gone. 

It was very quiet, the fog seeming to swallow even the splashing of their boots and occasional whispers. Duza could almost swear the fog was getting thicker and thicker as they continued on, until he could no longer see his brother, and even his torch seemed dim. Everything was fading into white, it seemed. Then it was red. 

By the morning, the boys hadn't returned. And crows were circling the swamp again. 

\-----------------------

The small town of Musfield did not attract visitors often. There wasn't really anything to attract them; a swamp does not make for good land. Which is why when a stranger did arrive, the gossip began. A traveller, no horse but decent boots as they weren't barefoot yet. Carried swords and a crossbow at least, some kind of travelling mercenary perhaps. Then again, they seemed to be female in appearance, though with the armour and the hood it was hard to tell. The stranger did not look at anyone as they walked towards the tavern, ignoring all looks and whispers. 

Sinak had owned the Smelly Reed since the day his Pa had died, and he did his job well. Cooked food, poured ale, and generally knew all of the townsfolk. This was their only tavern after all. Which is why he was startled to turn around only to see a pair of feline yellow eyes looking back at him from across the bar.  
"A pint of ale, please." She had a pleasant voice, at odds with the evil eyes and weapons at her side. It took him a second to register the request, before jumping and attending to his task.  
"Right away, miss." He poured a mug out, handing it to her. "Three copper." She slid the money over, before taking the ale and drinking at least half of it, then sinking down into the bar in relief. 

Three seconds passed before Sinak's curiosity got the better of him. "'Scuse me, but…you're a Witcher, aren't you?" She looked at him fully, eyes piercing into him. It was a shame that such a nice face had those eyes, that pallor.  
"Yes, I am." She smiled, in a way that absolutely didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry. I don't plan to stay long."  
"Didn't know there were women Witchers. Thought you were all men." She shrugged.  
"Most are." 

She had turned her attention back to her drink. Sinak meanwhile, took a glance around the tavern. Most weren't staring anymore, but there were several not-so-subtly listening in, waiting for trouble. Or something else. Ans there was one thing Sinak had on his mind.  
"Say...you wouldn't be looking for work, would you?" The Witcher finished her drink then looked at him.  
"Always looking for monsters to slay. Unless you've got any of those, no." He leaned in.  
"What if we have?" That gained her attention.  
"What kind?" Sinak shook his head.  
"Don't know. But I do know a few people have gone missing in the swamp lately, and everyone's scared. Reckon you could take a look?" The Witcher paused, considering.  
"For a price. We can't do this for free, you know."  
"Right, right. Well, I…I don't have much coin. But I do have a horse which I've been needing to sell, and I could ask around, talk about a reward from the people if you're able to deal with it." The Witcher tilted her head, the movement not quite human in a way that almost had Sinak shivering.  
"Deal. Victims have families you can point me to?"

\--------------------------

Aze wasn't sure whether to curse her luck or thank it. On the one hand, a horse would be useful in getting the fuck out of this place and far away. On the other hand, it did mean having to kill whatever was in the swamp. Not exactly her favoured terrain. Still, work was work. At least here no-one had actually confronted her over being a Witcher. Yet. Killing idiotic humans wasn't particularly fun, and tricking them got old after a while. With a sigh, she set off towards the swamp.

All the victims had been killed during the night, or at least it seemed that way. No relations between them, this seemed to be attacks of opportunity. Which did mean whatever she was hunting wasn't very intelligent. Didn't make them any less dangerous. And the fact that the bodies were still out here having not been collected made it harder; the second victim had gone to look for the first's body and hadn't returned. Boded so well. She lowered one hand to the surface of the water, crouching down and opening her senses. Hmm, nothing moving in the water, but the smell of rotting bodies was unmistakable. She headed towards them, footsteps strangely silent even in the water. The fog began to close in, leaving even her enhanced eyes useless. More fog, way too much to be natural. Shit, foglet. Which were invisible and immaterial. Mostly. She pulled her hand up, readying a Sign as her other reached for her silver sword. Wait, wait, listen, feel - movement in the fog and- Claws shattered the Quen shield as Aze jumped back, pulling out her silver sword. It tried to vanish again, but she was faster. Yrden flashed, the purple energy forcing the foglet out of its misty form and into something far more ugly - and killable. Her sword slashed out, faster than the eye could see, first across its face, then the chest, final hit severed the thing in two. Bloody pieces dropped into the waters of the swamp as the fog began to dissipate. With the fog gone, the bodies were revealed. Five in total, in various stages of rot. Aze's nose wrinkled. Bodies never smelt good. 

\-------------------------

The whispers from the first visit turned into full-blown shouts, gasps and shock when the witcher strode back into town, only partially caused by the thing in her hand. The cloak and hood had gone, revealing a head of dark hair tinted green and blue by the light, an almost ethereal smooth stride, and extra weapons at her side. Aze ignored them all, heading towards the inn where her reward was waiting. Soon she'd be out of this place. Her nose wrinkled as she breathed deep, taking in her current state. Perhaps a wash first, though.


End file.
